


Coming home

by DarkShadeless



Series: Overseer Sar [47]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Feelings, Getting into a spat with someone who knows you too well, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity (mentioned), M/M, Relationship Problems, Sar being very Sith, Secrets, at some points, being furious with someone you love, bottled up feelings, long overdue conversations, on all sides, that aren't handled so well at first, work-life conflict of a spy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 16:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19397497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Coming home isn’t as easy as it should be. Theron thought he was prepared for that.Turns out he’s not. Who knew.





	Coming home

**Author's Note:**

> So I've held onto this for literal MONTHS, not wanting to change it but not ready to post and I think I finally know why. I didn't yet know where they were going next.  
> BUT I DO NOW. So know that while things are really complicated, they'll get better. They'll get there.

Coming back from an extended mission is never as simple as all that. Theron thought he knew that, he has played the game often enough.

Turns out you can forget lessons learned just fine. If he had had any idea what kind of crash course was waiting for him at the other end of his mission… he would have still done what he did but maybe he would have been better prepared for the aftermath.

There’s the mistrust, the barrier between Theron and people he’d call acquaintances if not friends. The hurt feelings of his _actual_ friends. The hearings and the endless what-if’s.

There is the cool distance his lover wears like a cloak, some days, when Theron inadvertedly puts his foot in and Yon pulls back as if he’s been scalded.

There’s waking in the middle of the night because the Sith shifted in his sleep, or waking his lover in the middle of the night. They’re no longer comfortable in each other’s space and that might be the hardest thing to face.

Things aren’t exactly going smoothly, despite the progress he's making, Theron is all too aware of that. They keep dancing around the eopie in the room, patching cracks as they appear.

Most days he feels like everyone wants _something_ from him, some explanation or justification or… something they can’t even name. He’s not sure how much he has left to give.

_And shouldn’t Yon come first?_

He should and it has never been so obvious to Theron that he doesn’t and it _kills_ him. He has no idea how his lover stands it, to be with someone who keeps falling short of making him a priority. _The_ priority. Dear kriffing gods, he’s turning into his parents.

Yon takes the whole thing mostly in stride and it’s bizarre. It’s… it’s not what Theron expected and the mismatch has him out of sorts, fishing for reactions that never come.

Oh, his lover is _furious_ , make no mistake, but not the kind of furious he should be. He’s calm, at turns he’s cold. He should be roasting Theron alive and he’s not, he’s… he’s _detached_ and the paranoid streak Theron has cultivated to perfection in the last year and change is wailing like a siren about it. Sith don’t work like this, _Yon_ doesn’t work like this. He is all passion, crude and in-your-face.

Only, not anymore. Or at least not with Theron.

He’s trying to find his footing on this unfamiliar playing field and it’s just not happening.

They’re… they’re not a team anymore. They were before, became one before he even knew and Theron has no idea when that got lost, where exactly it turned into part of the collateral damage he’s struggling to find a way to fix.

He needs some time to piece himself back together, break up the guy he became, the life he lived that wasn’t a front, couldn’t _be_ a front because that’s how you get caught.

Here’s to hoping he can catch up before parts of his _real_ life come down around his ears. Theron’s not so hung up he doesn’t know the signs. Honestly, he hadn’t expected his lover to still be willing to put up with him when he got back. _If_ he got back.

Wanted? Wished? Dreamed? Sure. _Believed_? No.

Yon’Sar al Thum is, quote, unquote, ‘no one’s bitch, unless your name is Hargrev’. Granted that citation comes from the last time Theron tried to shirk laundry duty but the point stands. He was never going to take this kind of bantha poodoo lying down.

It’s something Theron loves about him, so he should know.

Most people, they fall for the charm. Smile the right way, hit the spot between humour and flattery, make them feel good about themselves and you could tell them the sky is green. They’ll at least consider it, if they even notice.

Theron is quite literally a professional when it comes to playing pretend. He does it for a living. The only difference between him and a con artist is that he’s got the badge to prove it. _(_ And he screws people over for the right reasons, most days.)

That kind of thing, you don’t turn it off easily. In some ways he’s always undercover. He’s trying not to be but…

Theron has had to contend with more ‘ _you should open up more_ ’s or ‘ _don’t you trust me?_ ’s in his life than he cares to remember, with wounded looks and growing disquiet when it becomes more and more obvious how much he’s holding back. They go hand in hand with the suspicion that rises in those closest to him as they try to fill those voids.

There’s a lot, hidden in the spaces in between. Intel, classified information, personal stuff he doesn’t know how to say. More than one relationship has imploded on him under the weight of the secrets he’s keeping. There's only so much you can do to deflect someone you're sharing your life with.

_You’re back! How was your business trip?_

_All good. **I killed five people today. One of ‘em was just an analyst but he saw too much. Too loyal to be bought. I looked his wife in the eye and told her I was sorry for her loss.** How was your day, hon’?_

_Alright I guess. Aren’t you going to tell me about your… thing?_

_Eh, all work and no play. Where’s my welcome home kiss, hm?_

_I just… you said you were going to be back a week ago._

_Sorry, sweetheart. Got held up. **Sliced what I came for like stealing candy, and then I had to go to ground so the bounty hunters wouldn’t cut me to pieces. Couldn’t even risk taking any of the additonal crap they’ve got stashed away that I can do nothing about and never will.**_

_Couldn’t you have called at least?_

_I’ll try next time, okay?_

Theron did what he had to do, for the SIS, and he never looked back. Didn’t mean it was easy living with the pile of skeletons in his closet. Yon is the first to metaphorically sigh when he stumbled across that leaking door and say ‘That’s gonna be hell on the carpet. What’s for dinner?’

His priorities are very Sith sometimes.

 _Anyway._ The point Theron’s trying so very hard to avoid being: Yon has been all sorts of mellow about the whole sorry-I-faked-treason-and-dumped-you-to-do-it thing and it’s… it’s driving him crazy.

He can’t help but worry at the awkward truce they’re holding, like at a sore tooth. Every now and again there’s the flash of temper he expects, falling out of sight as quickly as it comes.

They’re not okay.

While that realization creeps up on him and makes itself at home, so does the fear of losing what they have. Had. What he put aside, willingly and consciously, and Theron can be man enough to admit it to himself at least: when he didn’t think he was going to be there for the… the fall-out. This slow crumble of their relationship isn’t the ending he expected.

If Yon would just let him have it, so they can get it _over with_ one way or another- but he doesn’t. No, when the wave crests it catches Theron off guard completely.

* * *

Of all things it’s the laundry that puts them over the top.

He has been taking over his fair share again, didn’t even try to squirm out of it with the not-quite irrational terror of a lover in the dog-house trying to be on their best behaviour. Every other week, like clockwork.

There is a shirt in the laundry and it’s not his. It’s not Yon’s either.

“Are crop tops your thing now?” Theron’s chuckle sounds forced even to himself.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Yon go stiff, where he had been lounging with a holo-novel in his lap. They’re barely six words into the topic and he’s already done with it. Theron knows the signs.

“I mean I’m sure they look good on you. Pay to see that.” Whether that was supposed to smooth over the sudden tension or add to it is anyone’s guess. All Theron knows for sure is that his grip on the shirt in question is just a little too tight and he’s feeling cold all of a sudden.

“If you have something to say, say it.” There’s a dangerous undertone to Yon’s voice.

Theron swallows, throat dry. He shouldn’t. He should back the kriff off, while he still can. Nothing good will come of putting his lover on the spot for something he can’t fault him for, especially after what he put him through. It’s a wonder he was willing to take up where they left off.

“Did you- While I wasn’t… here,” and what a way to put it, “Is there-” _Someone else._

The words hang in the air with the weight of all the things that have remained unspoken between them. Slowly, Yon puts down his data pad. “Do you see me asking you questions I don’t want to know the answer to?”

A sucker punch would have been kinder.

_Valss hadn’t been ready to betray his sister on providence alone. He hadn’t been the only one who needed a little convincing but with him it was more than just a ‘little’._

_And look how that had ended, how and why and-_

_It’s not the same. It isn’t. Is it? Was it? Is he hypocrite enough to believe that?_

“You were gone. I found myself with some time on my hands.”

 _Right. Fuck._ He… he can deal with this. Damage control is the name of the game. How does he even _know_ , not that Theron was trying to hide it, he just couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eye and tell him-

The fabric in his hands creaks with the strain he’s putting on it. 

“So you…“

“Made some room in my schedule for someone who is under the delusion he wants to be my apprentice, yes, not that the little twerp left me much of a choice. Still haven’t managed to make him stop training before he pukes. Let me tell you, there’s a problem I didn’t think I’d have.”

The whole story is delivered in a tone so dry it might be a joke if his lover’s expression wasn’t completely devoid of humor.

“Oh.” That certainly explained the size of that shirt. Yon’s fiery eyes are as cold as a night on Hoth and the bubbling unease in Theron’s stomach doesn’t ease so much as condense into a rock. If Master Zho could see him now.

* * *

Sar knows he’ll regret the words before he even opens his mouth. It’s not enough to stop him.

He has held back, for Theron’s sake. Every day he watches him put on his game face, like the most distracting piece of armor, and brave the mistrust of people who once were his friends. That the cracks are so visible, if only to someone who knows him well, is testament to how close he is to his breaking point.

Unlike many of his very unforgiving acquaintances, Yon understands why his lover did what he did. He can accept it. Support it, even. That doesn’t mean he didn’t get _hurt_.

You can rationalize only so much before the dam starts to creak.

Any Sith worth their salt can tell you: Feelings? They don’t just go away. They stay right there with you unless you deal with them and they haven’t so much dealt with this as they’ve avoided the kriff out of it.

_Do you see me asking you questions I don’t want to know the answer to?_

_It’s an incredibly unfair thing to use against him and Sar can read the truth right off his lover’s face, as soon as the underhanded blow sneaks its way right past his defences._

Honestly? Sar isn’t even angry. Not about _that_. _He_ hasn’t forgotten how they met.

To be questioned in his loyalties, on the other hand… The Sith breathes through a flare of fury and doesn’t snap something that will dig itself right into the faultlines Theron bares to him as if he doesn’t expect the vibro blade that will pry him open and flay him alive.

He could. He could take him to pieces and when he’s done, no one will regret that more than himself.

What he has already said is enough to make Theron’s shoulders curve with guilt. He fidgets with Kendru’s shirt, unable to meet Yon’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” But that’s not the long and short of it, is it? Sar closes his eyes, grappling with his temper. “And so am I. That wasn’t called for.”

“No, you’re, you’re not wrong. I swear, it didn’t- didn’t- _fuck_.“

Dropping the laundry where he stands, Theron buries his face in his hands. Whatever, or whoever ‘it’ was must have meant at least a little if he can’t bring himself to finish that claim. His abject misery leaks into the Force, a cloud of unfocused pain.

It’s so raw it damn near breaks Sar’s heart.

At the very least it dents the storm of his own rage enough to get a hold of himself. Never has he wanted to be angry at someone less. It’s hard to uncouple himself from his ingrained habits, polished until _fury_ is the instinctive conclusion he arrives at, no matter which emotion takes a hold of him.

The top of his reservoir boils away grudgingly, leaving an absence in its wake that damn near gives him the shivers.

_The things I do._

“Theron?" _Hells_.

Sar ends up coaxing his lover into his arms right there, in the tiny kitchenette, so he can cry on his shoulder. By how silent Theron is about it, he’s still stuck with one foot in the field. He’s wound as tight as a spring, as if one wrong move could blow his cover.

The Sith dearly hopes being _there_ will be enough, emotional support isn’t exactly his greatest strength as evidenced by the last ten minutes. “What _happened_?”

If possible, Theron grows even more tense.

“If you can’t tell me, that’s alright. I… I get it.” It’s the truth, no matter how unhappy Sar is right now. “But I didn’t mean what I said, I was just being an asshole. I want to know what’s going on with you, whatever it is.” Carefully, Sar presses a kiss to his temple. “I love you, okay?”

That seems to be his lover’s limit.

“I told him he didn’t stand a chance.” Theron’s so quiet, Yon almost misses this confession. There’s no mistaking that is what it is meant to be. “It was useless, the Commander- he might not even have caught up. We could have made it but he wouldn’t listen. Why didn’t he _listen_?”

Well, blast it all to pieces. Sar and his big mouth. “He died for you, didn’t he.” _And you lied to him._

The shoulders he’s rubbing shake with a barely suppressed sob.

* * *

Theron can’t seem to calm down until the small hours. He’ll almost have it, start to get a grip but Yon’s holding him and that gets him going all over again. It’s like contact tears down all the walls that held just fine while he had no one to lean on.

_And yeah, that’s… that’s probably it, isn’t it?_

Eventually, after he has forgotten what he’s crying about anymore, he runs out of tears. There’s a curious emptiness inside of him. The weight that was dragging him down has grown lighter. It’s still there, heavy on his heart, but… lighter.

“I’m sorry.”

He said that before, didn’t he?

“Not for this, you’re not.” _You better not be,_ rumbles in Yon’s grumbly reply. It’s so _like_ him Theron can’t help but chuckle, weak as it is. He leans into his lover’s hug tiredly. This is home, right here. Some days he’s still out there no matter that he made it back to Odessen. He’s getting better but it’s so slow going. A year of deep-cover will do that to you.

Theron swallows, despite how raw his throat has become. “It won’t happen again.” That would make things harder, next time but he’ll… he’ll find another way.

For a moment, Yon stills. Then he pushes himself upright and out of their embrace enough Theron has no choice but to look at him. He doesn’t think he has ever seen him look this dead serious, in all their time together and apart. “Theron, don’t make promises you can’t keep, don’t do that, to either of us. Please.”

Theron doesn’t know what makes him feel worse. Offering that, with all it might mean, knowing just what he’s giving away and how badly he can fail or… having that rejected. Because of course it will happen again, he’s going to cheat on his lover and Yon won’t even be surprised.

“ _Theron_.” The warmth of Yon’s hands cupping his face drags him from his spiralling thoughts. “Listen to me. I want you to do whatever you think you have to do. I don’t give a single fuck whom you have to sleep with or rob or kill, just come home to me if you can. That’s all I want.”

He’s still chewing on that, unease churning in his gut, when Yon rubs a thumb over his cheek and looks away, unhappiness so stark on his face that it hurts Theron a little just looking at it. “That’s not what- why I-“ Whatever it is he is trying to say seems to fight him every step of the way.

“Hey.” Putting a hand over Yon’s, Theron gives it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, it’s alright.”

“No, it’s not!” The Sith’s feelings explode into anger, as they so often do when he is overwhelmed by something he doesn’t know how to, or doesn’t _want_ to, deal with. He’s blinking just a touch too fast.

With his heart sinking to the very bottom of his stomach Theron realizes he might not be the only one tearing up tonight and… kriffing hells. He has never seen his lover this upset. Furious? Hell yeah. Upset? No. “Yon?”

“You checked out on me, okay! And I don’t mean when you _left_.” Yon swallows but it doesn’t really serve to steady his voice, “For weeks, before, you just- you were there but you weren’t and you were lying to me all the time. Not about work. About _us_.”

_Oh. Oh, kriff._

In the grand scheme of things that time has pretty much slipped Theron’s mind entirely. All the pressure, the infiltration of the base by enemies _no one but him knew about_ , the narrative he had to set up… it, it was a lot.

“Honestly? When they told me you were a traitor it was a relief.”

Talk about a gut-shot. Yon pulls away enough to wrap his arms around his knees. There’s something so profoundly vulnerable about the gesture that it leaves Theron staring numbly while he’s trying to decide if that hurt so much he can’t feel it properly yet. “What?”

His lover’s shoulders tense a little more. “Well, either you were an enemy and I didn’t have to give a shit about you, which was really the less likely option,” though unsaid the ‘ _you idiot_ ’ is definitely implied, “or you… you manipulated me into being part of your cover. Set me up.”

The time ‘before’ has gotten blurry, alright. Through the lies and the desperate effort to save what he loved, Theron looks at the flipside of the coin he has argued about with a lot of people lately in all its damning glory. It’s not really ‘I did what I had to protect you’ or ‘I used you’ is it? It’s an ‘and’.

Funny how the little things help you in lying to yourself sometimes.

“And that’s better how?” His own voice is going a little hoarse again when he manages to ask that. “I’m sorry. You _know_ I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have- If I thought there was another way. I wouldn’t, I swear.”

He has said this to so many people, in so many ways, lately.

“Yeah.” With a watery chuckle Yon leans against his shoulder. “I know. You had to hurt me to get the job done.”

They sit in the dim light of their quarters, the steady hum of the base seeping through the walls, with all the scars and still-raw wounds they turned up between them.

After a little while Yon sighs. “You screwed me over but I can deal with that, Theron. I mean I’ll give you hell but it doesn’t hurt the same way, it’s not…”

He trails off but he doesn’t need to finish. Theron can piece that together just fine. He uses it often enough as a final parting, even if there’s more truth to it than he likes to admit.

_No hard feelings. It’s not personal._

But it had been, for a while there, hadn’t it? For one of them at least.

Carefully, Theron winds an arm around Yon’s shoulders and when he says it this time it’s softer, less driven by the need to be understood.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s still gonna take a while for me to get over it, I think.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Feeling some of the tension seep out of him is a start. It’s definitely a start. “Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> *SNIFFLES*


End file.
